


The Light Bulb Above My Head

by RiaTheDreamer



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: A collection of small moments, Friendship, Gen, Missing Scene, Spoilers for s16 e8, a lot of friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaTheDreamer/pseuds/RiaTheDreamer
Summary: The friendship between an orange soldier and a lens flare.





	1. Get Along with the Voices Inside of My Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for s16e8

“I have an idea.”

Grif breathes out through his nose and waits just a second before answering. When he opens his eyes, the lens flare is still in the corner of his vision. “Is that how you guys reproduce?” he asks as he continues to walk down the road.

The question seems to surprise her, and the light flickers for a brief second. “Excuse me?”

“You know, getting a light bulb above your head?” he says, shrugging. “And you’re _already_ a light bulb. Boom. Reproduction. The kid-friendly way.”

“Ooh, that would be practical,” she says and flies in front of his eyes again, like that one fly who refuses to leave you alone. “But since we’re actually sentient light beings, we don’t-“

Grif cuts her off with a grunt and quickens his pace. “I don’t care.” The Italian sun burns strongly against the back of his armor. It reminds him of Hawaii, just less… comfortable.

Huggins follows him. Of course. “About our reproduction or my idea?”

“ _Both_.”

“Oh. Okay.” She falls quiet, and for a moment Grif can look forward and see nothing but the dusty road and the trees swaying in the wind. Then, inevitable, he is blinded again when she dives downwards, asking, “But what if I say that the idea involves you and I think you might-“

“No. Nope. No way. All my problems began when I was involved in something, so let’s stop involving me and start being quiet instead.”

“Okay. I can do that.” The silence lasts two seconds. “But I heard you say you were tired-“

Throwing up his hands in the air, he interrupts her again. “ _Yes_. Which is _why_ I want _you_ to shut up before my head explodes.” That line just makes him think of Donut which also makes him think of the others and fucking time travel, and all these thoughts just make him grimace. His head still pounds from the bruises the time gun left behind on his face. “Fucking Doc…”

“So my idea is that I scout ahead to find us a place to sleep!” the lens flare says, apparently forgetting about the part where he declared his indifference to her idea. “And with ‘us’ I mean ‘you’. I know we’re in a hurry – well, maybe not, since we are stuck in the past and-“

Grif groans loudly. It’s a reaction to a lot of difference annoyances, really: her voices is annoying, the sun is too hot, his feet hurt, none of this makes sense.

The sound makes her fly closer to his head. It doesn’t help on his aching skull. “You’re the one carrying around a lot of flesh,” she says flatly.

“Is that another way of saying that I’m fat?”

“I’m saying that you require sleep to function,” Huggins explains, sounding just a bit overbearing. “So… I’ll go ahead and find a place where you can sleep! Preferably without bears! You don’t like bears, right? I’ve heard some preeeetty grim stories about humans and bears-“

“No, I don’t like bears.” Grif pauses for a second, reconsiders this, and quickly adds, “I also don’t like bats. Feel free to remember that. In case you find a cave or something like that, because bats – that’s a no go.”

“Noted! Though I don’t really see how a bat can prove a threat – but you’re the human expert. I suppose. Stay right there and I’ll be back!”  Huggins flies away in a flash – and a second later, before he can even let out a sigh of relief, she is hovering in front of his visor again. “I really mean it. Please stay right there because you humans are awfully fragile and corpses make me so sad. Bye! I’ll be back. Don’t move.”

Grif isn’t sure if she is just insanely fast (which can be the case) or if he is just slowly losing his grasp on time (which, things considered, can also be the case), but he is not even a quarter of a mile down the dirt road when the spark of light enters his vision again, a contrast against the red evening sky.

“Oh look,” he says. “My insanity is back.”

“I’m not your insanity!” the floating ball of light tsks at him. “I’m Huggins. Remember? Do we have to go through a traditional human introduction, because I can’t really do that. Lack of hands to shake and all that.”

“Yep.” Grif licks his dry lips and continues to walk forward. “You are definitely not a sign of my growing insanity.”

Huggins stays near his helmet as he moves. “But you have to believe all of this is real. How else can you explain your surroundings and Doc disappearing into a portal-“

“People leave all the time,” Grif says.

“That doesn’t sound nice. Are humans always that rude? Is that why you’re so sad?”

“I’m not- How can you- I’m wearing a helmet!” He lifts his hand as if to slap her away, but he remembers how well that went the last time (apparently, floating alien balls of lights are _warm_ ) and lets it fall against his side instead. “Besides, I’m not a nerd enough to question time travelling. I’ll leave that to Simmons. I’m just saying you’re a figment of my imagination.”

Huggins gasps. “That’s not a nice thing to say!” She flies closer to him, almost bumping into his visor.

The bright light hurts his eyes. “Stop talking to me,” he mutters under his breath and forces his feet forward. There isn’t anything else he can do right now, lost in Italy and time.

He is going to _strangle_ Doc when he sees him again.

“If I were a hallucination, could I do this?” A second after Huggins has asked the question, she grows in size until she fills his entire vision, blinding him, stealing away the sight of the road, the trees and the setting sun.

Grif has to hold up a hand to shield his eyes. “Stop that.” Eventually the light decreases in strength and he can see again. After he has blinked a couple of times, he spots Huggins further down the road, keeping an apologetic distance between them. But it doesn’t change the fact that she is still here. “My brain sure is creative today,” he mutters, sighing.

“I believe that! You humans are _so_ creative. That’s what allowed you evolve as a species, you know. You should have seen how your human society worked a thousand years ago – Oh wait, I suppose you already have. Never mind.”

She flies closer again, stopping just in front of his visor, forcing him to halt as well unless he wants to bump into her. “But if you don’t think I’m real, then why do you still follow me? Huh?” she asks him, bouncing up and down while inching even closer. “Got an answer for that, flesh-boy?”

“I don’t know.” The answer is truthful, and Grif grabs the back of his neck in frustration. “I mean, either you are here and I’m insane, or you are not here and I’m alone and definitely going insane. Not much of a change, really. And at least you have an idea of what to do.”

He wonders what he’ll do if she disappears. It’d lower the level of craziness, definitely, and that should be a good sign. But on the other hand, without Huggins it’ll be quiet, and that just reminds him of Iris and-

Thinking about Iris is not a good idea right now.

So Grif keeps walking.

Huggins follows him. “An idea. Right!” She speeds up, so fast it almost makes him dizzy, and then she’s in front of him, moving towards the tall trees in the distance. “Napping spot right ahead, partner! No bears in sight!”

“Right.” That probably counts as a good sign. Grif decides he can complain about her existence again tomorrow, but for now, a nap sounds like the best option available. Mainly because a nap will always be the best option, no matter what the situation is, time travel or no time travel. “What about the bats?”

“I didn’t see any. Oooh, and I can watch out for them while you recharge your exhausted biological body. _I_ don’t need to sleep.” She sounds proud of the fact while she leads him in the right direction, becoming the only source of guiding light as the sun goes down.

“See, that should be a clear warning bell,” Grif tells her. “You can’t trust anyone who can resist the power of napping.”

“Sleep sounds _horrifying_ ,” Huggins lets him know while illuminating the path ahead, saving him from tripping over a rock and falling flat on his face. She stays close. “Are you sure it’s healthy shutting your brain off like that?”

He cannot help but snort, “At least I have a brain.” It feels weird, saying that. Usually the others will point out that he’s the one lacking a proper brain.

Maybe that’s the good thing about hanging out with alien light bulbs. If they exist. Maybe it’s just his hallucinations acting up again.

But he can live with the insanity for now.

“I wouldn’t be so happy about that,” Huggins tells him. Her light bounces back and forth as they walk through the night together. “Have you ever seen an organ? They’re _disgusting_ , I tell you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's episode inspired me (though I didn't include it in this chapter, so no spoilers for that episode just yet. I'll warn about spoilers in every top note for all chapters) and I couldn't resist writing for these two.
> 
> It's almost 2am, I have an exam in 8 hours, I wrote like madman to get this done, I hope you like it, feel very free to leave your thoughts in a comment!
> 
> This fic will be a lot of small moments between these two, and we'll see where the plot goes the deeper we get into the season.
> 
> As always: English isn't my native language so I apologize for any mistakes, and you can find me as riathedreamer on tumblr.


	2. Flying Flashlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very small spoiler for s16e9

“I told you!” Huggins screeches, in an almost Simmons-like manner, into his face. “I told you sleeping is horrifying.”

Grif can’t remember the process of waking up, but when he blinks he is sitting up, hands digging into the dirt beneath him. Without his helmet he just ends up staring into pure darkness – with the exception of Huggins who floats around like a giant firebug.

“Is your brain okay? Do you need to restart it again?”

She’s so bright in the middle of the night, and he raises a hand to shield his eyes. “Geez, tone yourself down a little,” he says, exhaustion still evident in his hoarse voice.

“But I’m already on night mode!” she argues, using the term he’d brought up earlier. She doesn’t dim herself further, but she does back away to let the distance help with the sharpness. “Without me, how will you see in the dark, huh?”

“I don’t need to!” he says while rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “No one need to see anything in the dark! That’s why humans were born with useless eyes! You don’t do shit at night! You sleep! And don’t even get me started on my winter hibernation theory because I’m onto something and Simmons knows it – he just won’t admit it.”

“But you’re not sleeping.”

He glares at her, telling himself it was probably her light that woke him up. “I _was_.”

There’s a moment where he can just hear the crickets playing softly in the darkness around them. Italy is so quiet. He doesn’t like that. He’d forgive the quiet if the country just had pizza, but now it even fails to deliver that.

His stomach rumbles slightly at the thought, despite having raided some poor fool’s storage shed earlier. Huggins had kept guard while he took everything edible. She’s… _loud_ for a lookout.

“You make a lot of noise when you sleep,” Huggins tells him, flying in circles around their small camp. “First you were _growling_ and I thought you were a bear but I checked and your eyes were closed. And then I did an actual search for bears – this area is bear free by the way – but the noise was definitely coming from you. And then you started yelling and kicking and-“

“I get it, Huggins,” he cuts her off and waves her away. Even though he doesn’t remember the nightmare, he knows what it’s about. It’s been haunting him for so many nights now, always the same scenario. Tonight hasn’t been an exception. “I’m awake now.”

“Oh.” She is quiet for some seconds, obviously considering what he just said. That isn’t a good sign. “Is it normal to make that much noise or are you a special case?”

He can’t even be mad at this point. At least it’s better than to wake up with no one around. Grif sits up and pokes the burned-out firewood with a nearby stick. “Well, Simmons says my snoring breaks the decibel scale.” He considers lighting a fire again, but Huggins is enough of a light-source on her own, and at least Italy isn’t cold. Not like the first place he and Doc had been stranded in, wherever the fuck that had been.

“He’s probably impressed.” Huggins is flying around his head now. “And you probably miss him a lot since you talk about him while you sleep.”

Grif can feel his tired expression crumble in surprise. He doesn’t like that Huggins has that effect on him. “What?” he asks. Even though he knows what his nightmares are about, he can’t know what he says in his sleep. He can guess but he doesn’t really want to imagine what pathetic words can come from him. His dreams are stupid enough.

Huggins sounds smug, like she is smirking without even having a mouth. “Yeah, how come _I_ have to stay away from exposition but _you_ get to blabber about your friends and past and hidden wishes-“

“ _Huggins_.”

It doesn’t stop her. Instead she flies closer, her voice going deeper to mimic the words that had escaped his mouth. “ _’Simmons, don’t go. Simmons, I’m sorry. Simmons’-_ “ She stops, frozen in the darkness like a star on the sky. “Oh no!” she says, sounding genuinely horrified. He wonders if she’s managed to read his expression in the dark. “I’m sorry! I didn’t try to be mean! I was just imitating what you said because it was actually really sweet-“

“That’s one word for it,” Grif says, holding back a groan.

“I suppose another word could be ‘heart-breaking’,” Huggins muses loudly. Her voice is lighter again, more carefree. “If I had a heart. Did I mention I don’t have any organs?”

“ _Huggins_ ,” he says, more tired this time. He isn’t mad, but her voice is just too loud, too cheerful. It doesn’t fit their dark surroundings. Really doesn’t fit the scenarios he’s just suffered through in his mind. “I get it. Just leave it.”

“Don’t you want to talk about it?”

Grif thinks of Simmons all of the sudden and wonders what he is up to. Then he pushes the thoughts away and answers, “ _No_.”

Huggins lets out a frustrated noise and flies upwards again, ranting, “I can’t talk about gods or the prophecy and I can’t talk about you. This is going to be a boring conversation _preeetty_ soon.”

“I don’t think that’ll stop you from talking,” Grif mutters because even though he’s made it very clear he doesn’t care for the details, it hasn’t shut her up yet. Huggins just keeps talking, about herself, about the gods, about Grif. Sometimes Grif wonders if she’s been lonely, but he doesn’t care enough to ask.

“That’s because silence sucks,” Huggins says, her voice oddly firm.

Grif sighs again, forcing the nightmares away from the back of his mind. “Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t mind some exposition.” Huggins is right next to his nose again. Her light is sharper than the fire from earlier, but he supposes he can get used to it. “C’mon!” she tells him. “Talk my ears off! Figuratively speaking, of course!”

“I don’t know,” Grif says and turns his head away. His eyes hurt but that’s mainly because he is tired but he doesn’t want to sleep. Not yet.

And that fact is disturbing enough to make him frown. No one and nothing should be able to take sleep, of all dear things in the world, away from him.

Huggins doesn’t give up. “Pretty please? You aren’t sleeping sooooooooo… Tell me about yourself. Your motivations. Childhood. Strange human habits.” And with a daring voice she comes right against his face, asking, “Who is Dexter Grif?”

Grif opens his mouth, almost ready to answer but then he thinks too much about the question.

He knows he’s supposed to love pillow talk but his head is way too tired for that sorts of thoughts right now.

So he pushes the thoughts away, fills his head with the plot of _Die Hard_ instead.

Huggins seems to grow bigger when he sends her the smallest smile, replying, “A badass.”


	3. Causing a Commotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for episode 8.

“Narwhals, narwhals, swimming in the ocean,” Grif muttered, looking up to see more shades passing through the realm of blue.

To be fair, the color got quite boring in the long run.

Huggins moved forward effortlessly, circling around him in excitement. “I thought you said no singing was allowed!” she reminded him.

He groaned, sensing a faceless smirk. “Yeah, but-“

“SHARK!”

For a tiny spark of light, Huggins had a surprisingly big voice.

Grif’s body jerked in surprise before freezing. Huggins appeared in front of him, almost blinding him, but he sensed that the light being was just taking a shielding stance. They watching the shark slowly swim by in the distance.

“Gone!” Huggins declared happily and Grif continued to move straight ahead, steps slowed down by the resistance of the water. “See – I told you I’m keeping an eye out!”

Grif groaned but did feel grateful he hadn’t ended up as fishfood yet. Still, even sharks were better than bats. “Are we there yet?” he asked, feeling his steps grow slower.

“No land ahoy, Captain!”

“Huggins, we can’t talk as pirates when we’re not in a boat.”

“Aw.” Huggins always lowered herself to the ocean floor whenever she became disappointed. But just for a moment. Then she was right next to Grif’s head again. “So what do you say when you’re walking underwater?”

“You say that life is fucking weird,” he declared firmly, adding a snore. True, thinking back to when he’d been forced the military, he’d expected to be a part of stressful scenarios – gunfights, morning practice, running out of the good MREs. But he had _never_  thought he’d cross the English Channel by _walking_.

Then again: back when he’d drafted he hadn’t even thought he’d live this long.

Grif fastened his pace, suddenly hit by a burst of eagerness. He couldn’t wait to see Simmons’ face when he told him just how far he’d walked. By choice! Well, not that he had other solutions to this mess, but at least he wasn’t forced with a gun to the back, like Sarge used to do during morning laps.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Huggins asked him. “Life! That all of this can exist!”

Grif had to pause to avoid another fish swimming straight into his visor. “I sense we are tuning into the ‘praise the gods’ channel. Which is banned, remember?”

“Right.” And a moment later she asked quickly, “But don’t you think-“

“No, Hugs, I don’t think of your stupid gods.”

She gasped, forcing him to come to a halt, even take a step backwards, as she went too close to his helmet. “You can’t call them that!”

“Sure I can!” Grif tilted his head upwards, as if he could see the sky so far below. He just saw more water, some fish swimming by. Was that a whale? “See – ‘stupid asshole gods’!” For a split second he wondered if a lightning would strike him. Something like that. But, as expected, there were no gods who cared about his presence. “Aaaaaand I no one smitted me. Smote? Smat- Ah, whatever. Sorta disappointing, actually.”

“Don’t joke about that!” Huggins told him, voice stern yet fearful. She kept hovering close to him, as if waiting for the punishment to happen. “Smiting people is Atlus’ favorite hobby! It used to be golf but-“

Gods playing golf? Yeah, that could actually explain why they didn’t bother to check up on humanity. Grif sighed, feeling the headache set in whenever he thought too much about all this talk of gods – _actual_ gods. He doubted Simmons would believe in all this. Simmons was too smart for that kind of stuff. “Are you even sure your gods are _real_?”

“Of course! I- SHARK!”

Grif froze though he wasn’t even sure if it really was a shark this time. More like a big fish. But Huggins remained alert and protective and, well, he could appreciate that.

She let out a relieved breath when the fish disappeared, moving forward as she began to speak again, “Well, as I was saying – of course the gods exist! I know them!”

“But we don’t even need gods!”

“But we do!” she protested. “Don’t you ever wonder why you’re here?”

Grif bit his lip, looking away from her as he said, “Uhm…. No?”

“Well, if you do, then you can think of the gods and think ‘oh that’s why I’m here’.” She sighed happily, moving closer to him. “Isn’t that amazing?”

The memory of these so-called gods trying to kill him didn’t really fit well with Huggins’ happiness. “Not really,” Grif said. He still remembered that big four-armed _thing_ ’s anger. “Do you even like the gods?” he asked her, tilting his head towards the light.

“Yeah!” Huggins replied immediately. But then she fell silent for a brief second, adding, “I mean – _they’re gods_. Duh. They’re almighty! Though, some of them does call me Flashlight or- or Lightbug. I don’t like that.”

“Well, sometimes friends call you stuff,” Grif had to admit, trying to count all the nicknames he’d received through the years. Fatass, Numbnuts, Dumbass, Waste of Space, etc. But as mean as that sounded (and they actually sounded quite mean, now when he thought about it) the guys were alright. They’d forgiven him for screwing them over. Them still calling him names was just proof that things hadn’t changed. And that- That was a good thing. Right? “I think. I don’t know. I’m not good at the whole friendship-thing.”

“I don’t think you are that bad!” Huggins told him, humming happily as she raced forward to clear the way for him.

Grif mouth fell open but no sound came out as he thought about how to respond to that. In the end, he just ended up looking like an idiot – like a _fish_ with his mouth open for the hook.

 “SHARK!” Huggins warned him, and when the danger had passed, he kept going.

There was still a long way to England.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have to address episode 14 in the next chapter but for now... For now we have this.
> 
> Congrats to you who recognized the Narwhals song. This was what young Ria spent her time on when she first discovered the internet (and youtube)


	4. What Friends Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for e14.

“You alright?”

Grif widens his eyes at the question.

Before him, Simmons is standing with a rifle on his back, wringing his hands. He is ready for the battle ahead of them, except for the fact that he isn’t wearing his helmet.

His red brows are furrowed in worry.

Grif looks up from the gun he’s been loading, drops it in his lap. “Huh?”

Simmons is scratching the back of his neck, lookinh towards the other end of the room where the rest of their team are preparing themselves for upcoming mission. “It’s just… You… I… Here.”

Grif’s mismatched eyes widen even further when a snack bar is offered to him.

“Thanks,” he says. He doesn’t unwrap it or eat it right away in one mouthful as he usually does. Instead he tucks it inside a pocket compartment in his armor plate.

That just makes Simmons frown. “I was thinking…”

“Really?” Grif cuts him off with a small smile, soft, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Simmons tries to return it, but he keeps wringing his hands. “About your… friend. The light bulb thingy?” Immediately, Grif looks up. Simmons shifts the weight on his feet as he continues, “She was your friend, right? Not like a best friend _friend_ , but a friend _friend_ , and-“

He stops himself suddenly, mouth still open.

Grif saves him by saying, “Yeah… She is- was a friend.” His shoulders are pressed against his ears, glance lowered.

Simmons’ hand almost reaches for him before he presses it against his own mouth instead, coughing awkwardly to clear his throat. “We can go see her,” he says, looking away again. “Afterwards. When we’re back. In the present.”

His suggestion makes Grif lift his head but his expression remains darkened. “I don’t think she’ll be up for talking.”

None of them can argue against that. There’s a moment of silence before Simmons sits down next to him on the bench. There’s a small distance between them, yet they remain close enough that they just need to reach out to touch each other. “Do you… Do you agree with her?”

Grif sighs deeply. He straps the gun to his thigh and keeps his head lowered in the process. “I guess we’re all on the same side with the whole ‘time-travel is bad’ mindset. Like, we know it’s bad. We just need to do it one last time.”

Simmons nods at this. “We’re doing the right thing,” he says, and he tries to sound sure of that statement, yet he can’t keep his voice from cracking the slightest in the end of the sentence.

Grif stands up and stretches his arms above his head in an attempt to prepare himself for what’s ahead of them. “Yep. Just gotta save Wash. Then fight a god. We got it handled.” His lips are raised in a small smile at that. As crazy as it sounds, there’s a familiarity in the madness that has been a part of their lives for too many years.

At least they are going into this together.

Simmons smiles back and accepts Grif’s hand as he’s pulled up from the bench. “When you put it like that…”

Grif just shrugs at his words. “What’s the worst thing that can happen?” he says. However, only a second later, he inhales deeply and answers his own question before Simmons can even open his mouth: “I mean, obviously Huggins thinks we’re gotta mess up time and that’s why she is angry with me and- and that’s the reason she has the right to be angry with me ‘cause I totally backstabbed her after promising not to go back in time and now we’re doing exactly that and I suck at being a good friend so I get it.”

He turns his head away, staying quiet as he breathes in deeply.

Simmons notices the way Grif is biting his lip, and he opens his mouth and says: “You’re being a good friend right now.” When Grif puts his eyes on him again – widened in surprise and filled with a warm and gentle vulnerability – Simmons blushes but continues, “By saving Wash.” He puts a hand on Grif’s shoulder. “But I get why this must suck for you.”

“Yeah, but I mean, sometimes you have to leave a friend behind to save another friend,” Grif says firmly. He knows this. It’s a lesson that was taught to him, and he thought about it, over and over, in the weeks he spent alone on the moon when he’d refused to help save Church. When he’d been a coward and the others had left him behind. There’ll be no repeat of that. “That’s doing the right thing,” he says and hopes that Huggins will understand that one day.

Simmons opens his mouth, ready to argue, until he realizes that he can’t. So instead, he says, “Yeah… But that doesn’t mean you can’t feel awful about it.”

For a moment the two of them stare at each other, and their thoughts go to the weeks of separation they both had endured. It feels like such a long time ago.

They’ve both learned their lesson.

Things have changed.

“Moving out in a minute!” Carolina yells from the other end of the room, loud enough for them to hear.

They both nod and put on their helmet.

“You ready for this?” Simmons asks him as they go to join the others.

“Yeah,” Grif says and tries to ignore the pain in his chest that feels oddly like a black hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they'll probably be the last chapter, but it'll depend on what s17 will bring us. I hope Huggins might survive or that they can bring her back. I love her so much.
> 
> I know these chapters have been short, but I just wanted to write some small moments between those two.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> As always: English isn't my native language so I apologize for any mistakes, and you can find me as riathedreamer on tumblr.


End file.
